Full Circle
by Ophelia Joane
Summary: As a piece of furniture, you'd expect it to see many, many things over time. Especially Harry's crib...


_Written by Beater 1 of the Arrows for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, the FINALS! _

_Prompts: _

_(word) ancient_

_(word) pain_

_(word) current_

_(word) victory_

_(quote) "No people whose word for 'yesterday' is the same as their word for 'tomorrow' can be said to have a firm grip on the time." Salman Rushdie, Midnight's Children_

**Disclaimer: I donut own Harry Potter. I wish I did (I also wish I had a donut!)**

* * *

Only special things come full circle, the crib heard a human say once. It had never thought much of it until it was looking up at a familiar dark haired man with glasses, and his redhead wife. Next to them was a very young boy who was gripping the crib like his life depended on it. In the redhead's arms was another little boy, and they were all looking in, cooing at the baby currently in the crib.

_October 31st, 1981 _

_Voldemort's Demise _

If it had been human, the crib would have been terrified from the green light that exploded throughout the room, _literally _having blasted everything to pieces, including the crib itself.

The crying baby that had been occupying the crib was now sitting in it's pile of broken furniture and mangled blankets. Its parents were dead, and as far as the crib knew no one knew of what just happened. It didn't help that the baby was bleeding on it's forehead.

It would be a few more agonizing moments before someone came, a young, dark, greasy haired fellow who didn't even stop to look at the child, but instead clutched the redhead who was lying dead on the ground. He was crying, which looked like something he never usually did.

The man wiped his cheeks and let go of the women, standing up. He briefly looked at the baby, seeing something that made him start tearing up again. Then with a turn and a pop, he was gone.

Just in time as another young fellow, albeit more attractive man ran through the house. The crib recognized him from all those years ago when it was first being built. It was the first, and last time it ever saw the man.

"No," he choked, "Goddammit Prongs! No! No, no, no! Lils, come on..." The crib noticed that this man was also crying and shaking his head. He closed his eyes to think for a moment, then choked again, stepping out of the nursery. The crib heard some loud noises and saw the man back in the room, this time dragging the body of one of the humans it had saw frequently. The man set the familiar human (the crib remembered the redhead often addressed by, oh what was it... oh yes, Prat!) next to the woman (Flower? Isn't that what Prat called her?).

"They would want to be together," the man whispered. It was then he seemed to notice the baby crying for the first time, and ran over to the broken crib. Reaching in, he grabbed the child, "Harry," he whispered, "Oh, Harry. It's going to be alright. Uncle Padfoot is here. Shh..."

Picking him up, he put him in the crook of one arm, grabbing what the crib thought was a stick with the other. He pointed it at the child's forehead, and the blood was gone, revealing a perfect shaped lightning bolt. Padfoot rocked Harry to his chest, and for the first time since he had been put together, the crib actually made an effort to be aware around of it's surroundings. Even the cheapest chair could figure out that something was most definitely wrong here.

There was another loud sound coming from downstairs, and the crib figured it was another person come to see what had happened. Sure enough, a huge, gruff looking man squeezed through the doorway. He let out a huge wail as he saw Prat and Flower on the floor next to each other, clutching the wall with his big hands for support.

The arrival of the big man seemed to startle Padfoot, and suddenly he looked much more grounded and aware. "Hagrid. We have to do something about Harry. We can't let the Ministry find him like this!"

Hagrid kept on wailing, but tried to calm himself. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to take 'Aarry to- to Lily's sister." He was still blubbering, but he managed to get that sentence out.

Padfoot's eyes widened, "No! He can't go live with Petunia and that Vermin guy; you've heard all about them, they're absolutely monsters! He'll stay with me, I'm his Godfather."

Hagrid squirmed uncomfortably, doing his best to keep his focus up and not down at the ground. "Dumbledore's a great man, 'e knows best..." Although he didn't seem so sure.

"I can't- I can't leave Harry."

"Sirius, yer 'ave to think about 'Arry's future. 'Nd it can't be 'ere in the Wizarding World."

Padfoot shook his head, "I know you're right, I just don't want you to be." He paused, then his eyes lit up, "What if I can raise him away from all that, I can talk to Dumbledore!"

"I think yer should. But we gotta do what Dumbledore says right now. Then focus on getting 'im back."

"Yes, yes. Right, well then you better get Harry to him, I'll go put a Notice-Me-Not charm around the place, as I'm sure some Muggles are going to start wondering what happened." Padfoot looked back at the ground, closing his eyes he held back another sob. He looked back up to Hagrid, "Take my motorcycle, it flies," he took a second to laugh (which ended up being a bit snotty), "James and I thought that we could start some new current trend with a flying motorcycle, I guess we won't get to see what happens."

Hagrid put a hand on his shoulder, "James and Lily... they'd want us to keep moving. To be happy. You-Know-Who is finally gone, thanks to this little guy."

Padfoot shifted his arms so that he was able to give Harry to Hagrid. His hands dropped to his sides and his head hung to the floor. "I don't care what they would want for us, I just want them to be here. We've lost so many lives... so many friends. It's just not fair, it doesn't seem like a victory at all."

"No," the large man agreed, "Because it really isn't."

Those were the last humans the crib saw until someone came for the bodies and tried fixing up the house. It was also another young man that the crib had seen once before, with scars all over his face. Eventually the man was able to repair the damage done to the crib, which it was grateful for. It noticed how the man didn't say anything as made the bodies float with a stick like the one he had seen Padfoot with. He didn't even cry, though the pain was evident on his face.

Then no one ever came. For months no one stepped foot inside the house. The crib had never felt lonely, but even now was getting the distinct feeling of boredom. At least it was whole again.

However, one day an old lady cheerily hobbled through, the crib could hear her cane smacking the floor downstairs. When she had made it to the nursery she sighed in sadness. "Oh Lily, poor Lily," she muttered, shuffling to the crib. She grabbed on the side of it, peering in as if she was expecting to see the baby that had been there all those months before.

The crib would get used to seeing the ancient looking lady, who over the next sixteen years would make sure that the nursery was always spit spot, though no one but her ever went in, with the exception of one day when she brought an old man with a long silvery beard, and glasses with her. "This is it," she quietly said to him.

"And you've kept it the same? Why?" the old man asked.

"Lily Potter and I, as I'm sure you know, became quite good friends before she had to go into hiding. Why, I was even at Harry's first birthday party!" She sighed, "I like to think of this as her memorial, and James of course. This was their house too, however short of time. Every time I walk in here I can still feel her presence, it's concerning yet comforting. Like time stopped until that fateful night."

Nodding along, the old man opened his mouth to respond, "No people whose word for 'yesterday' is the same as their word for 'tomorrow' can be said to have a firm grip on the time."

"Are you saying I don't have a firm grip on time?" the old lady teased, to which the man smiled.

"No," he started, "I think that you have too much of a grasp on time."

It was nice that she had brought another human with her, as it had amused the crib. But she never took anyone else to see the nursery. And one day, she stopped coming all together. The crib would had thought that she too had died, but still heard movement coming from downstairs everyday.

Again, the crib was bored and lonely, and getting rather dusty from neglect.

But then it heard new voices - young voices! They were with the woman for only a few minutes before the crib could hear struggling and yelling. Suddenly, the door to the nursery flew open and the crib's first thought was that Prat was here with another girl. Except, it wasn't Prat. It was the baby. It had to be, for it wasn't normal for humans to have perfectly shaped lightning scar on it's forehead, was it?

It didn't get much of a chance to gawk and stare, as the floor was torn to pieces by a ferocious looking snake, and the boy seemed to go unconscious while the girl poofed them out, making them disappear.

It all happened so fast that when the crib would see the same man in a few years, it would realize it had finally come to a full circle.


End file.
